Week 41: The Best Laid Plans

I’m a week overdue, my OB/GYN just quit, and my doula has gone out of town. No, I’m not kidding. Actually, losing my doctor is not that big a deal. She’s one of five female OBs in a group practice, all of whom see every patient several times, so she’s “my” doctor only in the sense that her name is on all the forms. I’ve known all along that any one of the doctors could be on call when I deliver my baby.

As for the doula, well, I can hardly expect her to put her life on hold till this baby decides to show up. She postponed a family trip last weekend since that’s when I was due. I could tell she felt bad. She found me a back-up, but I’ve decided it’s not worth the hassle.

See, like my original doula, the back-up doula is an Orthodox Jew, which means that she can’t drive a car, handle money, or answer the phone on the Sabbath or any Jewish holiday. Just my luck, one happens to fall on this weekend. What that means is, if I go into labor, we will have to call her cell phone and let it ring twice. That’s the signal to tell her we’re coming to pick her up on our way to the hospital. Can you picture C. and me – who don’t do so well with directions under the best of circumstances – driving around a strange neighborhood at 3 a.m. while I’m bent in half with contractions, looking for the third white house on the left after the drycleaners?

I’m trying not to give the baby the impression that he or she is inconveniencing everybody, even though it’s sort of true. My dad just got bilked out of a party to celebrate his 65th birthday and retirement because my mom figured they’d be here visiting the baby and didn’t plan anything. Plus, he hoped his first grandchild might be born on his birthday, June 1, but that day’s come and gone.

I’ve continued to try all the tricks to bring on labor (the latest is eating lots of pineapple) to no avail. My (back-up) doctor has scheduled me to be induced next Thursday if the baby doesn’t arrive before that. Today, C. and I went to the hospital for a fetal non-stress test and a sonogram to check the level of amniotic fluid. Everything looks fine.

We even got to see the baby for the first time since my last sonogram four months ago. It’s got fat cheeks and big feet! The nurse actually laughed out loud and said, “The baby looks mad. Look at that scrunched-up face and those chubby cheeks! It looks like it’s storing up nuts for winter!” She continued laughing way past the point that it was appropriate. It hurt my feelings a little. How dare she imply that our baby is funny-looking! Even though, I have to admit, that fat little mad face was pretty funny.

Maybe the baby will get mad enough to come out this weekend. But not till Sunday night – that’s when my doula gets back and can answer the phone again.